Pan
by captainodonewithyou
Summary: The movie Hook, but in reverse. Peter Pan is angry that Hook has left Neverland and devises a foolproof plan to get him-and Emma- to return. (future!fic) (pirate)
1. Chapter 1

Emma finished rinsing the last dish, slipping it carefully into Killian's waiting hand. He always insisted on helping with everything around the house—tasks big and small— and even in the 5 years they'd been married she still found herself surprised at just how much he could do with a wooden extremity. Drying dishes was only the beginning of his long list of talents.

(And Emma couldn't deny that Captain freaking Hook helping her with the chores was extremely hot— dark eyes focused, jaw set, face handsomely concentrated on the job at hand).

He caught her staring as he finished with the plate, eyes lighting right up, lips flitting into a gentle smirk.

"Enjoying the view, darling?" he asked, swaying flirtatiously closer to her.

"Don't flatter yourself," she rolled her eyes, and touched an imaginary spot on the corner of his lips, "You had chocolate… right there."

"Mmm. Chocolate, eh?" he asked, smirk widening.

She nodded once, wishing those eyes weren't so _distracting_, seeing right through her.

"I had _vanilla _ice cream, my love," he finally answered, eyes twinkling, and she groaned at her mistake momentarily, before he caught her lips in a gentle kiss.

"Daddyyyyy!"

There was a pattering of small feet and Killian drifted away from her, bending to reach out as the blur of blonde curls approached, scooping her up against him. Their little girl immediately curled against him.

"Leia? What is it, love?" he asked, eyes immediately full of a concern that had frequented his expressions since Emma had first become pregnant.

Emma stepped slightly forward to touch her back as she raised her teary blue eyes up to look between them, and her heart pattered.

"There was a noise! In the windows, I'm sure of it," she cried, little voice breaking off into tears.

Relief immediately filled Emma, and she saw it in Killian's eyes as well. He shifted her slightly— she was four, getting a little old to be held— but when it came to his girls Killian had never had an ounce of willpower against them.

"A noise, eh? Shall we go investigate it then?" he offered, meeting her eyes— her eyes that might as well have been his own, capable of mimicking mischievous glances identical to her father's.

Leia glanced uneasily at Emma, who nodded encouragingly.

"Mummy will come?" she asked him timidly, looking again between the two of them, eyes slightly narrowed as she gauged their responses.

"We both will," Emma promised, crossing her heart. The little girl finally nodded hesitantly, and wiggled herself out of Killian's arms, instead taking his hand (the wooden one—their daughter had never found anything about her fathers lack of a hand abnormal, something Emma would be forever grateful for, as she couldn't even imagine how it would hurt him) and ducking behind him, pressing her other hand to the small of his back to lead him forward. Glancing at Emma he swallowed a chuckle and led the way.

This was usual, since Henry had been away at college. Leia loved her brother dearly— when he wasn't around to check for monsters under the bed she worked herself into a panic. Something as little as a branch knocking at the window could have her up all night long.

When they reached her room Killian flicked the lights on and crossed straight to the window. It was cracked open, as the house had been stuffy from the cooking and the cool autumn air was refreshing. Leia hung back by Emma, still unsure.

Killian opened the window the rest of the way, peering out, leaning out slightly.

"Killian," Emma warned softly, not so much because she thought he'd fall out but more at the possibility. He immediately leaned back, taking one last look about before glancing at Leia.

"There's nothing but a tree out here, princess. Perhaps the branch was scraping?"

The little girl added it up a moment, running a little hand through her sleep-matted curls and then twisting the end on her finger, a habit she'd recently picked up.

"_Perhaps,_" she finally mimicked, and it was one of those things that absolutely tore at Emma's heart, their child picking up on her father's abnormal speaking habits. She reached down to squeeze her shoulder gently.

"Do you want to take a look, sweetheart?" she offered gently. It seemed that parenting came so easily to Killian, he didn't even have to try. For her, it was all trial and error. She never knew if what she was doing was right or not. But Killian nodded, holding a hand to Leia and she felt a little flutter of pride for saying the right thing.

After Leia had studied the view and was finally content, she curled into her bed.

"Do you want this left open, darling?" Killian asked gently as Emma switched off the lights. Quiet breathing was the only response, and he chuckled.

"Just leave it a crack," Emma said as she crossed to her bed, pulling the sheets up around her still figure and kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight, Leia," she whispered, and stepped back to let Killian kiss her.

He looked at their daughter with even more adoration and reverence than he looked at even her with, and it made her fall deeper in love with him every day.

"Is there still some, er, chocolate, on my face, darling?" he asked the moment they left her room, eyes glistening, and Emma's cheeks burned.

"Maybe," she answered sheepishly, and this time she tugged him down to her lips.

She woke up to a scream. It was still dark— but the dusty dark that came just as dawn was creeping in. It took her a precious moment to register the noise, and by the time she was falling over herself to get up Killian was already halfway to the door, hook notably absent from it's usually permanent position on the bedside table.

Her heart was pounding so hard that she felt it all the way in her head, tripping over sheets as she flew towards their door, already turning down the hall, nearly at Killian's heels.

All of their family portraits down the hallway were smashed and askew— a few fallen from their place on the wall to the floor. Glass from the frames littered the hall and tore Emma's feet but she hardly noticed, and hardly cared.

Her heart beat unsteadily when Killian turned into her room ahead of her, cursing.

When Emma turned in behind him, her heart stopped beating.

The room was turned upside down. Toys scattered, sheets torn from the bed, mirror cracked and clothes strewn about. The window was wide open, a chilling breeze blowing the curtains out.

And Leia was gone.

Killian was at the window, the window she'd told him to leave open, looking out, yelling her name. Emma found herself tearing through the sheets, under toys… but as she turned for the closet something caught her eye, sending a shocking chill down her spine and freezing her heart.

"Killian," she called, voice far too soft to be heard above his yells, more frantic by the moment, and she suddenly couldn't breath. "Killian!" she repeated, startling herself with her tone and volume.

There was a knife stuck in the wall. A terrifyingly familiar dagger. And pinned beneath it was a note.

She pulled it free, struggling to read it through the shaking of her hand until Killian came up beside her, wrapping his own hand around hers and somehow, someway, managing to hold them steady.

Dear Hook~  
Your presence is  
required at the  
request of  
your child.

Kindest personal regards,  
Peter Pan

Emma read the note over and over again, until Killian's hand was shaking as much as her own and her eyes were glossed over and just bringing air to her lungs felt like a struggle.

_Peter Pan._

"We need a ship," was all Killian finally whispered hoarsely.


	2. Chapter 2

"Peter Pan is dead."

Rumplestiltskin was hardly even looking at them, hardly even bothered since they entered his shop. He'd come to the front with tired eyes and tensed momentarily at the mention of his old foe but swiftly recovered and asked them with quiet patience to let him be.

"Bloody hell, crocodile, if this is you holding on to our old grudge I'll—" Killian began, hook twitching upward.

They'd left the house in a hurry, Emma grabbing jeans and a jacket and Killian pulling on jeans over his boxers but leaving his arms bare out of his white undershirt. He hadn't removed the hook, and his brace was taught against the tense muscles in his arms. Emma touched his shoulder softly, not because she was any less upset with the old man, but because murdering him wouldn't solve any of their problems.

She cautiously pulled the folded slip of yellowing paper from her back pocket, holding it out to Rumple with a shaking hand.

He shot her a look but accepted the paper, unfolding it, flitting his eyes over it and handing it back—expression unchanged.

"This means nothing— anyone in town could have taken your child, Emma. It could be a ploy to get you to leave. Pan, I'm afraid, is dead. I killed him. I'm sorry if I've inconvenienced you," he started to turn away and Emma felt Killian tensing swiftly beside her… but she was faster, rage filling her in one smooth wave— and suddenly she was vaulting the counter and grabbing his upper arm roughly turning him to face her again.

"That isn't good enough," she hissed, "Our daughter has been goddamn kidnapped and you are going to help us get her back or I swear to God you will be sorry."

She felt like her stomach, her arms, her whole body was full of a burning lava, bubbling and hissing. Papers were rustling throughout the shop and lights flickering as her magic simmered slightly out of control— and the imp finally looked just frightened enough.

He hesitated, and nodded.

"Follow me."

In the back he brought out a plain white globe—one with no markings, but a golden needle sticking from the top.

"Magic globe," he explained gruffly. "Just… prick your finger. It'll show you where she is."

He offered it out in front of him, and without hesitation, Killian pressed the pad of his pointer finger to the long shining tip. Scarlett blood dripped, and then, as if full of blood, the globe began to swirl red, melting through shape after shape before slowly, lazily settling into a shape that was vaguely familiar, but nothing Emma knew of this world.

The globe clattered to the floor, and she jumped, glancing at Rumplestiltskin with a start. He was pale, and it took all her willpower to return her gaze to her husband, to hear what she already knew had to be true. His eyes are watery but firm, his jaw set— determined to stay strong.

When he saw her watching him he could only nod once.

"Looks as if we're going back, love," he said stiffly, and she could see the notion breaking him.

He gave up being Hook over six years ago.

Pan was giving him no choice but to be him again.

xxxxx

She was so painfully aware of the fact that the ship— one Killian had picked almost carelessly to borrow from the port— was not the Jolly Roger. She wasn't sentimental, _she was not sentimental_, but in the unfamiliar cabin she felt even more lost than she'd ever been.

Killian was getting their bearings and starting them off. It had taken much convincing before Rumplestiltskin gave in, returning the compass and 2 whole blessed beans to… well, Emma. He hadn't hardly looked at Killian, which ultimately wasn't of any matter other than raising his level of rage by miles.

They'd stopped at Mary Margaret's apartment, only because Killian berated her when she'd muttered she hadn't been planning to tell them anything. Mary Margaret had been beside herself, heartbroken, babbling about how she would have to get things to come along until David, sensing the look in his daughter's eyes, touched her shoulder and mentioned something about staying to keep Neal safe.

Killian and Emma had left them in an argument— David keeping Mary Margaret just distracted enough not to notice.

Emma had never once been seasick on her adventures at sea but sitting on the unfamiliar bed in the unfamiliar captains quarters of the unfamiliar ship… she felt dangerously close to it. Waves of nausea burned at the back of her throat and her stomach felt like it was on fire and she just felt utterly sick. Suddenly the whole night was crashing over her and she had been anything but ready for it. Her feet ached and only now did she realize they were full of glass.

She tugged at her boots, head pounding, chewing on the inside of her cheek and tugging and tugging and the damn thing wouldn't come off her foot… and somewhere one tear broke loose and set free them all.

She didn't hear Killian enter, hear him shut the door behind him, until he was gently brushing her hands aside, sitting across from her in a chair he must've pulled over from the desk. He carefully loosened the laces of her boots (again with that precision of one with more than one hand) and peeled them from her feet one by one— silently focused on his task, saying nothing.

"Don't you have glass in your feet?" she finally asked stupidly as he studied her foot. He raised his eyes to her, smiling dryly.

"I wear socks to bed," he told her in a voice that was so soft and uncharacteristic it almost sent her right back into tears, "So I don't get you with cold feet in the night."

His brace was tense against his arm and it was all Emma could look at as he pried the glass from her feet, surely as carefully as he could but… It was something to focus on that wasn't their daughter, but all the same she was all her thoughts kept drifting to.

"I told you," she gasped as he tightened a final bandage around her still-bleeding foot, before again raising his eyes ever so slightly to her, "Killian, I told you to leave the window open."

Her heart thudded against her chest and finally something in his expression changed.

"Love…" he said, brow furrowing, "You don't think this to be your fault, do you?"

She didn't answer, focusing her tearing gaze on the floor. Her eyes burned.

The mattress shifted as he sat beside her, and she turned her head so maybe he wouldn't see the tears burning the back of her eyes.

"Darling, don't do this. Don't play this blaming game because believe me I will win. Why do you think the bloody little imp wanted Leia in the first place? It wasn't because he wanted a cozy family reunion, I assure you."

He took her hand, and softly tilted her face back to face him with his hook.

And as much as she wanted to believe him…

"Killian it may have been to spite you but Leia literally _told us_ there was something outside of her room and I left the window open anyway. I might as well have opened the goddamn door and invited him to dinner."

She wasn't crying anymore, thank God. But now… now she was angry.

"Bloody hell, Emma, he wanted our daughter and he was going to get her whether through a window or a door or a damned house fire," he touched her shoulder, and his stupid brow was furrowed again, eyes stormy, "You know Pan— he gets what he wants."

"That's what scares me, Killian!" she finally snapped, pulling from his grasp and stumbling up onto her aching feet. He watched her with a touch of confusion. "God, Killian! He wants Hook, don't you see? He doesn't want you. He's angry and bored and he wants his old nemesis back and that is not what we're bringing Killian… But _that_. _That_ is what he wants."

His gaze hardened as she spoke, but never faltered. She wasn't sure when he became the calm one but it absolutely infuriated her.

"Emma, love, sit down," he said gently after a moment of letting her words ring into the silence. She just stared at him. "You're making your feet bleed again, darling, please," his eyes momentarily softened, quietly begging, and she finally gave in, taking the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. After a moment he reached out between them, taking one of her hands.

"We're going to get our daughter," he told her gently, "And I'll do what it takes to get her back home," his jaw tensed, "Whatever it takes, love," he held her gaze a moment longer before scratching his ear, and rising to his feet. "Try to stay off those feet for a while, eh?" he said softly, giving her a final gentle look before exiting the cabin, shutting the door behind him.

She kept quiet until he left, staring at the floor until his footsteps quieted down the hall.

"That's exactly what scares me," she repeated softly into the silence.


End file.
